


Enough

by Khylara



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Post-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 04:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15941933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khylara/pseuds/Khylara
Summary: Confessions are made after an industry party.





	Enough

_It really is a nice night_ , Patrick reflected as he sipped his champagne. Cool enough for him to be comfortable in his suit jacket but warm enough not to need anything else, with a light breeze sending up the scent of roses from the garden and a pale sliver of a moon the centerpiece in a star filled sky – it was almost perfect.

A burst of laughter from inside suddenly cut through the silence and he grimaced. He hated industry parties with their fake smiles, too loud voices and far too many people crowded into one room. He had retreated to the balcony the moment it had been polite enough to do so, only going back in every so often for more champagne. He was at the point now where everything that had happened over the past few weeks had become a comfortable, numbing blur.

_At least until tomorrow when the hangover sets in_ , Patrick mused, blinking back the sudden onrush of tears. When had it all gone so wrong?

_Not your fault. Not hers, either. You tried. You both tried so hard to work things out. Nobody’s fault it didn’t._ He couldn’t blame Elisa for finding solace with someone else, especially with him out on tour three weeks out of every month since they had started dating. She had tried to understand, had even attempted to join him on tour, but the constant distraction had led to one fight after another, leaving them both angry and miserable.

They had tried so hard to compromise and make things work between them. In the end, it hadn’t been enough.

_We’re still friends, at least. That’s something_ , Patrick mused as he leaned against the stone railing. Not that it mattered when it came down to things. With Elisa moving to Philadelphia the moment things were finalized, he was fairly certain he’d never see her again.

It was enough for him to want to go back inside, find the bar and start drowning his sorrows in whiskey instead of champagne.

_Can’t. Too many people here. Too much of a chance for anything unusual to get into the tabs. People will find out soon enough. Don’t make it worse by causing a scene._ He closed his eyes, sighing. _God, though…God, I wish…_ Ruthlessly he pushed that thought aside. There was no sense in wishing for something that had no hope of coming true. He had learned that a long time ago.

He was just about to go back inside and grab another glass of champagne when he heard a familiar voice behind him. “I thought I’d find you out here.”

He turned to see Pete standing by the doorway, two champagne flutes in his hands. He forced a smile; the last thing he wanted was for Pete to see him upset and start asking questions. “Hey,” he said as he set his empty glass down on the balcony floor out of the way. “One of those for me?”

“Yeah. Been looking for you.” Stepping out onto the balcony, Pete let the glass doors shut behind him. “Crowd get too much for you?” he asked as he handed the glass over, a sympathetic look on his face.

“I was fine until the entourage showed up.” An up and coming pop singer Patrick had never heard of had breezed in while he had been getting his second glass. Draped in sable and surrounded by at least a dozen fawning attendants, her presence had immediately sucked the life out of the room. “Are they still here?”

Pete nodded, grimacing. “They commandeered the piano.”

Patrick took a sip of his drink. “Bad?”

“She’s trying to be either Whitney Houston or Barbara Streisand. Do not go back in there if you value your hearing or your sanity.” Pete came a little closer. “The worst part is that there are at least two record producers actually listening to her and taking her seriously.”

Patrick shuddered. “Which means she’ll be all over the radio in six months. God help us.” He heaved a sigh. “Where did Joe and Andy disappear to?”

“Andy’s in the back library with a couple other drummers trading tour horror stories. Joe’s raiding the buffet.”  They shared a smile, neither one of them surprised by the fact that their guitarist had found the food.

Pete leaned against the balcony railing, taking a sip of his own drink before turning to Patrick. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

One of Patrick’s eyebrows went up. “Fine. Why?”

Pete shrugged. “You’ve been out here for a while. Pretty much since we got here,” he said. “I mean…I know you hate parties like this, but you usually try to mingle a little.”

Patrick wrinkled his nose. “I know. I just not up for small talk tonight.” He nodded toward the glass doors and the people on the other side of it. “I don’t even know half of those people.”

“Neither do I. I’m still trying to figure out how in the hell we got invited. Someone knowing someone knowing us, I think.” There was a pause. “Is that it? Because you’ve been pretty quiet the last few days.”

Patrick gave him a look. “Keeping tabs on me?” he asked lightly, not really surprised. “You don’t have to. I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Pete’s voice was full of concern. “Because the past couple days? You’ve had this look on your face whenever you think no one is paying attention. I can’t describe it any other way except sad. Like your world is crashing down over your ears.” He gently nudged Patrick’s shoulder with his own. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know.” Patrick fingered the champagne flute in his hands. “But you have your own stuff to deal with. You don’t need my drama on top of everything.”

Pete shrugged. “I can listen at least. Especially since you look like you really need to tell somebody what’s going on.” He paused. “Talk to me, Pattycakes.”

Patrick frowned. “Pattycakes? Really?”

“I’ve been calling you that since 2004. If you had really minded you would’ve bitten my head clean off by now,” Pete countered with a knowing smile. “So?”

Patrick was silent for a moment as he tried to find the words. Finally, he settled for simple. “Elisa and I are getting a divorce.”

Pete’s dark eyes went wide. “What?! But I thought…I mean, the two of you seemed to be okay when she came out a couple weeks ago.”

“That was in front of you guys.” Patrick set his empty glass down on the stone floor of the balcony. “We’ve been arguing pretty steady since the tour began.” At Pete’s confused expression Patrick explained further. “She wants me home a lot more than I have been. Said we hardly saw each other between us touring and me being in the studio and everything else. That’s why she came out in the first place. She got tired of being left alone.” He sighed. “It didn’t work out that well.”

Pete frowned. “She knew damn well what she was getting into when she married you. Musicians tour.”

“I know, but when I met her I was doing “Soul Punk”. I wasn’t touring as much and I definitely wasn’t gone as long.” Patrick paused, letting out a heavier, resigned sigh. “I don’t blame her for getting lonely.”

Pete’s frown deepened; he definitely didn’t like the sound of that. “How lonely?”

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Patrick looked down at his shoes. “After she went home, she ran into an old college boyfriend of hers. Apparently he’s a bank manager now. Six figure salary, home every night by six with weekends off, worships the ground she walks on.”  He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the anger, the pity that he knew would be on Pete’ face. “They’ve been seeing each other over the past few months.”

Pete pressed his shoulder against his before resting his hand in the middle of his back. “How far did it go?” he asked quietly as he began to rub.

“Pretty damn far.” Patrick’s voice was bitter. “She’s pregnant and I know it’s not mine. From what the doctor told her, she’s a little over eight weeks along.”

Pete did the math in his head, added in their tour schedule and came up with an answer he didn’t like. “While we were in Europe,” he said and Patrick nodded. “Fuck. And she’s known for how long?”

“About a week, I think. She told me Sunday night right when I came home from my studio session.” The memory of his wife’s tearful confession suddenly came to mind and Patrick quickly pushed it away. “Anyway…that’s why I’ve been a moody bitch the past few days.” Looking up, he offered Pete a wan smile. “Sorry if I’ve been taking things out on you.”

“Fuck, Trick…you’ve got nothing to apologize for.” Pete gave his shoulder a squeeze. “So what are you going to do?”

“It’s already done,” Patrick said, shrugging. “Filed a no contest divorce first thing on Monday. We’re just waiting for the paperwork to go through. He’s planning on marrying her and taking her off to Philadelphia the minute after that. Apparently he’s got a job making twice as much as he’s making now waiting for him.” He let out another heavy sigh. “And the Chicago house is on the market. That’s it. Over and done.”

“What about you?” Pete asked softly.

Patrick shrugged. “I’ll move back out here for a while. The Hollywood Hills house never sold, so all I have to do is clear out the cobwebs.” There was a pause. “It’ll be fine until I figure out what to do.”

Pete’s heart ached at the defeated look on his best friend’s face. “That’s not what I meant.”

Patrick was silent for a long moment. “I know it’s not,” he finally said. “But what else can I do? She made her choice, and it sure as hell wasn’t me.”

_Fucking bitch_ , Pete thought, biting the words back just in time. Patrick didn’t need to hear what he thought about his soon to be ex-wife. _Anna all over again._ “Can I do anything?” he asked, feeling more than a little helpless. “I want to help.”

“You are. You’re listening. That’s a big help right now.” He sighed again. “I just…I wish I knew where everything went wrong, you know? I tried to understand. We both did.”

“It’s not your fault, Trick. None of it is,” Pete said, trying to reassure him. “You can’t blame yourself for what she did.”

“I know. I’ve been telling myself that for the past week,” Patrick said, his voice soft. He shook his head. “It’s not sinking in all that well.” He waved a hand toward the glass balcony door. “And I know the moment I go back in there and try to talk to anyone, it’ll come up. And I can’t. I can’t deal with all the phony smiles and apologies and everybody getting in my business while pretending to be concerned.” He closed his eyes. “I just can’t. Not tonight.”

“Of course you can’t. And it’s nobody’s fucking business,” Pete agreed even as he wracked his brain for a solution. One came a moment later. “Look, we did our bit and put in an appearance. Let’s get the hell out of here. We can go back to the hotel, find a crappy movie on TV and order every dessert off the room service menu.” A hopeful look appeared on the bassist’s face. “What do you say, hmm? Sound good?”

Patrick found himself smiling. “Sounds really good actually,” he said. “What about Joe and Andy? We all came together.”

“We can leave them the rental and catch a cab,” Pete said. “I know Andy’s not drinking. They’ll make it back okay.” A rueful little smile crossed his face. “And honestly? I don’t trust myself driving just now. The champagne was a little too good, you know?”

Patrick nodded. “I definitely know.” He was feeling pleasantly buzzed, his maudlin mood pushed aside thanks to Pete and his suggestion. “Now?”

“Just let me find Andy and give him the keys. I’ll meet you by the front door.” Opening the glass doors, he ushered Patrick inside. “Give me a couple minutes?”

Patrick was just about to nod in agreement when a high-pitched screeching assaulted his ears. “What in the hell was that?” he asked, wincing.

“The diva,” Pete said, wincing as well.

“Oh, hell no,” Patrick said, immediately shaking his head. “I’ll call for the cab and meet you outside instead. No way in hell am I listening to that for one moment more than I have to.”

“You got it.” They parted ways.

Nearly a half an hour later, both men were getting into a cab. “What did Andy say?” Patrick asked.

“Not a lot. Just took the keys and waved me off,” Pete said as he slid in next to him. “Joe pretty much did the same thing when I told him. Pretty good bet we won’t see either of them before tomorrow.” He paused. “How are you doing?”

Patrick considered the question for a moment. “I’m okay,” he finally said, offering the bassist a smile. “The champagne buzz is beginning to wear off, I think.”

“And everything else?” Pete persisted.

The singer shrugged. “As well as I can be,” he said. “Not much I can do about it. You know?”

“I’m sorry,” Pete said softly as the cab turned onto the highway, heading for their hotel. “Are you sure I can’t do anything?”

Patrick put a hand on Pete’s knee. “You’re doing it. If you hadn’t come out when you did I’d still be out on that balcony getting drunk. Probably would’ve ended up in the tabs before the night was done with the way my luck’s been running.” The smile turned into a grin. “Saving me from making an ass out of myself? That’s a lot.”

Pete grinned as well. “And how many times have you done the same? I think I owe you for at least the next hundred years.”

After the cab dropped them off, the two men headed up to their rooms. “Come on in when you’ve changed into something more comfortable,” Pete said as he pulled out his keycard. “I’ll leave the adjoining door unlocked.”

Patrick headed to his own room next door. “See you in a few.”

It didn’t take long for Patrick to exchange his suit for his well-worn Batman flannel pajama pants and Coultrane t-shirt _. Much better_ , he mused, sighing happily as he put on his glasses as well. He then tapped on the adjoining door. “You decent?”

“You should know better than to ask me that question! “ Pete called from the other side of the door. “Come on in.”

He came in to see Pete dressed in gray sweats and a Fall Out Boy t-shirt that had been new sometime around 2006. The bassist was sprawled out on the bed, pulling on the brightest green fuzzy socks that Patrick had ever seen. “Where in the world did you find those?” he asked, eyes wide.

Pete grinned as he held up one foot to show them off. “Aren’t they ridiculous? Bronx picked them out for me to help keep my feet warm.” He wiggled his toes. “They look like they were made out of the fur of dead Muppets.” Picking up the TV remote, he tossed it into Patrick’s waiting hands. “Find something we don’t have to think too much about watching while I order. Still okay with dessert or do you want real food?”

“Cheesecake if they have it,” Patrick’s voice was firm as he began channel surfing. “And tea.” He normally didn’t touch anything dessert-like nowadays; he was still trying to watch what he ate and how much. Cheesecake, however, was a safe enough option; it wasn’t chocolate and it was rich enough so he wouldn’t finish the whole order. And he knew that Pete would gladly inhale whatever was left.

“Cheesecake and tea it is,” Pete said as he picked up the phone. After placing the order, he went to the mini fridge in the corner and pulled out a bottle of water. “Anything interesting?” he asked, nodding at the TV.

Patrick wrinkled his nose. “Seems to be either politics, reality TV or Mexican soap operas," he said as he continued to flip. He paused at HBO. “”Game Of Thrones” marathon?”

“Works for me.” Climbing onto the bed, Pete leaned back against the pillows and sighed. “God, I’m beat.”

Patrick tossed the remote onto the bedspread. “We can call it a night if you want,” he said as he sat down on the edge. “Between recording and the tour and all the publicity we’ve been doing? I’m surprised you’re still standing.”

Pete smiled. “Not exactly standing now, Pattycakes.”

Patrick gave him a swat, which Pete easily ducked. “Ass. You know what I mean.”

Pete snickered in response. “Yeah. And I’m good for now. Ask me again after I’ve stuffed myself with cheesecake.” There was a pause. “What about you? You’ve been doing just as much and dealing with all your personal shit besides.”

Patrick shrugged. “A little tired, but that might just be from the champagne. I’m not used to drinking all that much anymore.” He paused. “Everything else…all I can do is deal with things as they come up. You know?”

Pete nodded. “Just…if you want to talk, I’m here. Okay?”

Patrick settled himself nest to Pete, sticking his socked feet under the covers. “I know.” He offered Pete a smile. “Thanks.”

Pete grinned as well, “Any time.” Picking up the remote, he turned up the volume on the TV.

                                                                                                *****

The next morning, Patrick awoke to find someone snuggled up against his back and the sounds of snoring in his ear. _Pete,_ he realized, relaxing almost immediately. _No reason to worry. It’s Pete._ Memory came back a moment later; they had watched several “Game of Thrones” episodes before falling asleep sometime around 2am, with Pete insisting that he stay instead of going back to his own room. Patrick had agreed as soon as Pete had made the suggestion; with everything that had gone on, he hadn’t wanted to be left alone.

_And he understood. I didn’t think he would, but he did._ Patrick slowly slid his hand along the arm encircling his waist. It felt good to be held after everything that had gone on. Comforting.

He hadn’t expected to feel that way with Pete.

_He’s always been there through everything,_ he realized. _Keeping an eye on me when we were first starting out, going after the critics whenever they said something bad about me, reaching out during the hiatus…whenever I’ve needed him, he’s been there. Even when he had his own problems to deal with._ Patrick let out a ragged little sigh; what had he done to deserve someone like that? Someone who cared so much?

_Not a whole hell of a lot,_ he thought, remembering long silences, thrown punches and one screaming fight after another. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. He definitely owed Pete more than the half-assed apology he had given him right before Fall Out Boy had started recording “Save Rock And Roll”.

“You okay?”

Patrick turned his head enough to see Pete wide awake and with a concerned look on his face. “What?” he asked, stalling a little. He hadn’t realized Pete had woken up when he had touched him.

“Are you okay?” Pete repeated. “You’re all tensed up and stiff. You weren’t before.” There was a pause. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.” Suddenly uncomfortable with everything that was bubbling under the surface, Patrick tried to pull away. “I should go.”

Pete’s arm tightened around Patrick’s waist. “You don’t have to,” he said softly. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

Patrick was silent for a long moment. “Just thinking about things, that’s all,” he finally said. He let out another sigh. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Could tell you didn’t want to be alone after everything,” Pete said quietly. “And I really didn’t want to be either, to be honest.” He paused. “That’s not all of it, is it?” Silence. “Come on, Pattycakes…you can tell me the rest.”

More silence. Finally, Patrick said softly, “You always know what I need. I don’t even have to ask most of the time…you just know. How do you do that?”

“Gotten used to paying attention to things over the years. Especially things about you,” Pete said simply. “And you do the same. That’s what friends do.”

_You definitely do it a hell of a lot more than I ever have,_ Patrick couldn’t help thinking. “I just…you should know…it means a lot.” His breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes against the sudden sting of tears. “You don’t know how much it means.”

“It means just as much to me.” Pete tightened his hold around Patrick’s waist, feeling the singer tremble under his touch. “Trick? What is it really?”

Patrick was quiet for a long moment. “I think…maybe everything’s just finally hitting me, that’s all,” he said finally, swiping at his eyes. “I mean…we tried.  Elisa and I…we both tried so hard…”

“Of course you did. I saw it. We all did,” Pete said, trying to soothe. “It’s not your fault, Trick. None of it is.”

Patrick didn’t seem to hear him. “We were trying before the tour started. She wanted a baby right away, so we tried for a while before I left.  And that…that was the main reason she came out on tour. She wanted to keep trying.” Patrick took a deep, ragged breath before continuing. “But I was so tired most nights after the show and all the press and everything we were doing…it took everything I had to keep focused on the music.” He paused. “I didn’t…I tried…but I didn’t have the time or the energy for her. And she tried to understand I think…”

“But she didn’t. Not really,” Pete finished for him. “I know. I went through almost the same thing with Ashlee.”

“It just…it felt like a kick in the teeth, you know? All the talk about starting a family and settling down a little after the tour stopped…how she was willing to wait…and then to find out…to find out…” Patrick put his hand over his mouth to stifle the sob that came out.

“I’m sorry,” Pete murmured, resting his cheek against Patrick’s red hair. “I’m so fucking sorry, man. You didn’t deserve that happening to you. Not ever.” He paused. “Is there anything I can do?”

Patrick shrugged. “Other than what you’re doing? I don’t know.” He let out another sigh. “I wish I did.”

“I want to help,” Pete whispered. “I wish I could somehow.”

Suddenly Patrick turned in his arms, burying his face in Pete’s chest. “Just…don’t let go,” he murmured. “Don’t ever let me go.”

“Never,” Pete promised, wrapping his arms tighter around Patrick’s trembling frame. “Not ever, I swear. You’re my Pattycakes.” He buried his nose in Patrick’s red hair, inhaling the scent of his sandalwood shampoo. “I’ve got you, Patrick. I won’t let you go.”

They held each other close for several long moments, cocooned under two layers of covers.  Finally, Patrick pulled away enough to swipe at his eyes. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”

“No need for you to be,” Pete said softly. “I don’t mind.” There was a pause. “It’s you. I never would with you.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, eyes wide and hearts pounding. Finally, Pete moved even closer, his fingers ghosting over Patrick’s flushed cheeks. “Can I?”

“Please,” Patrick breathed. “Please…Pete…” Any other words were cut off by Pete’s lips being pressed against his.

Patrick’s arms tightened around Pete’s waist, his mouth opening under the other man’s questing tongue. A gasp escaped him as Pete began trailing kisses down his neck. “God…please…”

“You sure?” Pete whispered in between kisses. “We don’t…I mean…I can just hold you.” He drew away enough to meet Patrick’s hazel eyes with his own dark ones. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“And if I do want to?” Patrick asked, his voice just as soft. “What do you want?”

“You,” was the immediate reply. “I’ve always wanted you. Through everything.” There was a pause.  “I should have told you how I felt years ago.”

“You’re telling me now.” Patrick pulled Pete into another kiss.

Pete’s fingers tugged on the hem of Patrick’s t-shirt. “Off,” he said. “Take this off. I want to see you.” He brushed a kiss against Patrick’s throat. “Want to touch you…kiss you all over.”

Patrick let him pull his shirt over his head and toss it to the floor. “You, too,” he breathed, his own hands pulling at Pete’s shirt. “Want to see you…make love to you.”

Pete sat up enough to pull off his shirt, tossing it to the floor with Patrick’s. “Anything you want,” he promised. “All you have to do is tell me. I want this right for you.”

Reaching up, Patrick slid his arms around Pete’s neck and pulled him back down. “It is,” He pressed his entire body against Pete’s, letting the other man feel his erection. “I swear it is. Perfect.”

“Pretty close,” Pete agreed as he trailed kisses along Patrick’s collarbone and down his chest. “Not gonna lie to you, though…perfect is gonna be both of us naked.” He paused at the waistband of Patrick’s pajama pants. “Can I take these off you?”

“Yes. Please…yes.” Patrick reached out to yank at Pete’s sweatpants. “Yours, too.”

Once they were both naked, Pete went back to trailing kisses down Patrick’s stomach and along his hips. “Beautiful,” he whispered in between kisses. “So fucking beautiful. I always wanted to do this.”

Patrick squirmed under Pete’s touch. “God, Pete…don’t stop,” he breathed. “Please don’t stop.”

“Never, baby. Never,” Pete promised. His hand hovered over Patrick’s erection, his fingers itching to touch. “Can I?”

“Fuck, yes.” A ragged little groan escaped Patrick as guitar callused fingers stroked his cock. “Pete…”

“Good?” When Patrick nodded, Pete suddenly grinned. “I know what’ll feel even better.” With that, he ducked his head under the covers and took the entire length of Patrick’s cock down his throat.

Patrick cried out, his hips arching off the bed as his hands tangled in Pete’s hair. “God, Pete!” he sobbed, tossing his head back and forth against the pillows. “Please, Pete…please…so good…”

_Better than good. Perfect_ , Pete thought as he sucked, greedily drinking own the fluid leaking out. _So sweet and perfect…my Patrick._ He sucked harder, driven on by the sound of Patrick’s moans and the singer’s fingers tangled in his hair. _You taste so good…so amazing…can’t wait to drink you down._

“God, harder. Please suck me harder,” Patrick babbled, tightening his hold. “Gonna come…please let me come.”

_Come, baby,_ Pete thought as he slid one hand under Patrick, his fingertips brushing over his balls. _Come on, Patrick. Let it go for me. Let it come._ One finger went even further back, brushing against the puckered opening to Patrick’s body. _That’s it, my baby. Let me feel you come._

A moment later, Patrick let out an inarticulate cry, shuddering as he spilled everything he had down Pete’s waiting throat. Groaning as well, Pete swallowed greedily, being careful not to miss a drop. _So good. So sweet_ , he thought, ignoring his own aching erection as he licked the singer clean. _My golden angel baby._

When he was sure he had captured every drop, Pete came out from under the covers and made a show of licking his lips. “You’re delicious, Trick,” he purred, grinning.

Patrick’s eyes flickered open. “God, you’re amazing,” he whispered, reaching out. “Come here. Let me kiss you.”

Pete went willingly into the singer’s arms. “Love you,” he breathed in between kisses. “Love you so much, Pattycakes.”

“Love you, too,” Patrick answered with a smile of his own, sliding his hands down to grasp Pete’s ass. He looked down to see the bassist’s erection pressed against his thigh. “You didn’t?”

“I didn’t. I wanted to concentrate on you.” He let out a soft moan. “God, I love your hands. Please, Trick…please touch me.”

“Is that what you want?” Patrick asked softly, brushing his lips against Pete’s ear. "Or do you want more? I could suck you off, like you just did to me. Or would you rather fuck me instead?”

Pete’s dark eyes went wide. “Fuck, Trick…you want that? You’d let me?”

“Yes. And definitely yes.” He nipped at Pete’s earlobe, making the bassist shiver and whimper in response. “I would love to feel you in me, filling me up, pounding me into the mattress. Or would you rather I bend you over something and fuck you instead?”

“Anything,” Pete promised rashly as he rubbed himself against Patrick’s thigh. “Would love anything you wanted to do to me.”

Patrick leaned up enough to brush his lips against Pete’s, his hazel eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Anything?” Without waiting for an answer, he slid down and took Pete’s cock into his mouth.

Pete let out a long, low groan in response. “Jesus fuck, Patrick…God, love your fucking sweet mouth.” He clutched at the bed sheets as Patrick’s head bobbed up and down. “So fucking good, baby.”

_Love you,_ Patrick thought as he sucked, lapping at the head of Pete’s cock before he sank back down. _Love this…love you…let me taste you._   He reached out, his hand finding Pete’s. _Come on, love…give it to me._

Feeling the singer’s hand touch his, Pete uncurled his fingers enough to clasp Patrick’s. “Patrick…sweetheart…I’m close,” he warned, his voice shaking. “I’m gonna…I can’t…”

Patrick moaned and sucked even harder. _Don’t. Give it to me. Everything._ He held Pete’s hips down with his free hand, squeezing the fingers he was holding. _Come for me._ A moment later, he heart Pete shout his name, felt his hips bucking under his grasp as salty sweet fluid flooded his mouth. He swallowed everything, reveling in the taste.

When he was done, he let Pete’s cock slip out of his mouth and pressed a kiss in the center of his bat heart tattoo. “You okay up there?” he asked, squeezing the hand still in his keeping.

“Fuck,” Pete muttered as he stared up at the ceiling with wide eyes. “That was…God, Trick.” He tugged on the singer’s fingers. “C’mere, baby.”

Patrick slid back up into the bassist’s waiting arms. “Hey,” he said, stealing a kiss.

“Hey yourself.” Pete reached out to brush his free hand through Patrick’s bright hair. “You’re fucking amazing. Did you know that?”

Patrick ducked his head to hide his red cheeks. “You’re not so bad, either.” There was a pause. “So what it happens now?”

Pete glanced over his shoulder at the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table. “Well…it’s still pretty early, but we could call up room service for breakfast. I don’t know about you, but I really could use some coffee.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Then…well…since we don’t have to fly back to Chicago until tomorrow…what do you say about just going back to bed and trying all those things we said we’d do to each other?”

“I say I really like that idea.  All of your ideas, actually.  And I’ve got a few of my own you might like,” Patrick said as he reached down and pulled the comforter over them both. “But that wasn’t what I meant.”

“Oh?” Pete suddenly understood. “You mean with us?” At Patrick’s nod the bassist reached out and brushed his fingers over his lover’s cheek. “Pattycakes…sweetheart…you gotta know that I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you.”

“I know that.” Patrick leaned into the touch. “And I love you, too.  But Meagan and the boys…I know you’ve got a good thing there. I don’t want to fuck that up for you.”

“You won’t.” At the dubious look on Patrick’s face, Pete explained further. “She knows how I feel about you. Always has. And she’s okay with it.”

Patrick’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“She’s okay with it,” Pete repeated. “She explained it to me once when I asked her about it. Another woman? She’d have my balls for breakfast and I wouldn’t blame her one bit.” He paused.  “You, though? She likes you. And she trusts you. Especially when it comes down to one thing.” Pete swallowed hard. “You won’t make me choose.”

“Of course not,” Patrick said immediately. “You love her. And you’ve got Bronx and Saint. I wouldn’t want to hurt any of them, not for anything. They’re my family, too.” Patrick mirrored Pete’s gesture, putting a hand on the bassist’s stubbled cheek. “This…whatever you’re willing to give…it’s enough.”

“And when it’s not?” Pete asked softly.

“Then I’ll let you know. But for now it is.” Patrick’s smile gave truth to the words. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Pete sealed the promise with a kiss.


End file.
